


Reflections

by al_fletcher, athenril_of_kirkwall (al_fletcher)



Series: Aether Effect (With Smut) [14]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Barn Sex, Birth Control, Blow Jobs, Clothed Sex, Cowgirl Position, Cunnilingus, Dragon Age Drunk Writing Circle, Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Here Lies the Abyss, Drama & Romance, F/M, Face-Sitting, Lemon, Missionary Position, Nipple Play, Nudity, Penis In Vagina Sex, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:49:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28161939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/al_fletcher/pseuds/al_fletcher, https://archiveofourown.org/users/al_fletcher/pseuds/athenril_of_kirkwall
Summary: Cassandra and Blackwall share one last night together before the Inquisition besieges Adamant.Two out of every three words in this fic is smut, a whole 67%. You have been warned!
Relationships: Blackwall/Cassandra Pentaghast
Series: Aether Effect (With Smut) [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1227941
Kudos: 11
Collections: DA Drunk Writing Circle Prompt Fics





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Continuation of a prompt for Casswall, "Almost Lost You" Kiss...although they do a lot more than kiss in this one.

Blackwall sat in his barn next to the stables, running a grindstone along the edge of his axe as he occasionally checked on his armour drying by the fire.

The entirety of the keep was bustling with activity late into the night, with sergeants barking orders at footsoldiers to check and double-check the kit they’d need for the arduous trek down the mountain path, and scouts on horseback thundering through the main gate, headed towards the bases in the Hinterlands and the Exalted Plains with the aim of mobilising the forces there for the great endeavour the Inquisition was about to launch.

There had been no good news from Hawke and Warden Loghain concerning Adamant Fortress—the corrupted Wardens were indeed holed up there in force, and while the citadel had been allowed to fall into disrepair, it still remained a formidable barrier to the Inquisition’s attempts to rid the Venatori saboteur’s influence over the Orlesian Wardens.

To this end, the Inquisition would besiege it and set an overwhelming army upon them, with the aim of opening a large enough breach in the walls to slip a small party through led by none less than the Herald of Andraste, where Rivka and some others, Hawke and Loghain included, would seek out and terminate Erimond’s command—with extreme prejudice. The perfumed coats and patterned masks of the Winter Palace had been one kind of danger. This was different, and far greater. Nothing else after the catastrophe at Haven could hope to match this in peril.

Like then, he’d be backing up Rivka and her fellow master over the rift’s magics, Solas, but unlike then he wouldn’t have Cassandra guarding his back and him hers (Cole instead replacing her), with her role being to command the rearguard and tie down any Wardens hoping to retreat into the keep and stymie Rivka’s task force. Exhaling hard as he gave his the blade of his axe some last few passes, he planted it onto the ground, handle-first with a grunt of frustration.

Thinking back to the journey home from the Western Approach, whose steps they’d be retracing en route to Adamant, he remembered how perturbed that strange spirit boy, Cole, had been about Erimond’s actions, amounting to the closest thing to total moral outrage he’d ever seen from the lad. Solas, too, seemed to have some special insight on the total insanity of their plan. Little surprise that Rivka had chosen them both for her task force.

And him? Were Warden Loghain to fall fighting his comrades, history would need another to have stood steadfast against Clarel’s mistakes, didn’t it? He stood up, looking upon the Warden armour they had fished from some chest or other whilst following their trail. He’d resisted wearing it up till recently. Nevertheless, with corruption rife in their ranks would it not fall to another Warden to ensure that their reputation emerged from this debacle intact? He found himself letting loose a bitter laugh, turning the irony over in his head.

“Forgive me,” a familiar voice sounded, “but am I interrupting?”

Recognising it, Blackwall drew in a sharp breath, turning around. “Not at all. But what are you doing here, Cassandra?”

It was indeed the Lady Seeker, whose gaze was partly cast to the ground as she approached him. She said, “I understand you have volunteered to join our Inquisitor in hunting down our latest Venatori foeman.”

He nodded. “Yes, that’s right. The Wardens have made a catastrophic error. A Warden needs to—”

She reached out, grasping his shoulder with gauntleted hand. “You don’t need to explain. It was not so long ago that I did much the same for the Seekers. I just…”

Drawing her further into the barn as he gently took her by the wrist of that same hand, he asked, “What is it? You seem troubled.”

Cassandra shook her head. “It’s just that from what the rest describe, Erimond’s hold over the Warden mages seems absolute. If the Calling is truly so powerful…”

Blackwall stepped forward, close enough to her that they standing head-to-head. “I’ve told you before, it seems that being distant from where Corypheus had made his attack on the minds of the Wardens means that it seems not affect me as much as them, or even Loghain—so far, anyway.”

“And yet still you throw yourself directly at the instrument of his will,” she said, not moving to look at him, but opening her eyes to stare upwards into his. At this range he saw them brimming with wetness, and his heart slowed for several beats.

Breaking away, he said, “You knew full well that whatever had affected the Seekers could well have been present at Caer Oswin, Cassandra.”

“I’m…I’m aware,” she finally says, choking between breaths. “I…forgive me, I am letting my judgement here be clouded.”

“Clouded?”, he asked, closing the distance between them again.

Glaring at him with tears rolling down from her eyes in long streaks, she spat, “Don’t be fulsome, Blackwall. I would rather see you dead than turned into a…tool…of Corypheus, but above that I wish to…I wish not to lose you.”

“I also don’t wish to lose you, Cassandra,” he said, his heart growing heavier with every word. “But when we reach Adamant, there’s every possibility…”

Nodding as she wiped dry her cheekbones, she said, “You’re correct, of course. We shouldn’t pretend as though the business of the Inquisition isn’t perilous.”

Casting his gaze at his arms and armour, Blackwall said, “I can’t deny I’m worried for you, either. You and the Inquisition’s vanguard are going to be right in the thickest of it, between Erimond and the rest of the Wardens.”

“I’m well aware,” Cassandra said just as distractedly. “Neither of us are going to have it easy come the siege.”

“It won’t be easy,” Blackwall said, finding words to fill the space. “But I don’t think Rivka could’ve chosen anyone better to hold the line.”

He heard the faint echo of a laugh from her, before she said, “You always did know how to flatter me.”

“It’s hardly flattery if it’s the truth,” he said, smiling, before adding, “I must be taking up your valuable time. There’s a great deal to prepare tonight as it is.”

“No, not at all,” Cassandra said. “I think we’ve done enough drills for one night. There’ll be plenty of time down the mountain trail to remind the vanguard how to hold their line. I came down here…because I wished to.”

“You wished to?”, Blackwall said, the gears in his head turning achingly slowly from Cassandra’s perspective.

“Yes,” she simply said as she felt her eyes brimming with tears again. “Here, tonight, together with you.”

She reached forward, drawing him in for a deep kiss, then another, then another, clinging on to him as though letting go would mean losing him forever, until they both came up for air, his hands on her own shoulders firmly but slowly pushing them apart.

Blackwall looked into Cassandra’s eyes as she gasped for air, her chest rocking with each breath and anticipation—and concern—written on her face.

Finally, she managed a nervous, “No?”

Glancing at the stairs to the loft, he whispered into her ear, “Not _here_.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sex starts here!

The next few moments all blurred into each other, Blackwall only knowing that they did indeed make it upstairs, and that Cassandra had all but pounced on him the moment they cleared the top stair, pinning him to the ground and straddling his hips with her thighs. Gloves, coats and undershirts all were cast off and thrown somewhere aside, and soon the two warriors were topless.

Finally finding some words, Blackwall said, “Maker, you’re gorgeous.”

“Don’t do yourself a disservice,” Cassandra said, leaning in to kiss him as she started rocking back and forth, her groin rolling against his crotch.

The breath caught in Blackwall’s throat as her pace intensified. Right above his face was her bosom, rocking in rhythm with her hips. Finding his hands free, he planted them apiece on her breasts, grasping their curve with his fingertips and gently brushing her nipples with his thumbs, until he felt them get harder and harder with every circular stroke.

Cassandra gasped, bucking wantonly against him, and swatting his hands away as she felt the pleasure intensify into agony with their stimulation.

“Aren’t _you_ eager?”, she asked, looking down at him, both of them shining with sweat and gazing at each other with pure desire in their eyes.

“My hands were free,” he said, defending himself.

Undoing her belt, Cassandra retorted whilst glaring at his trousers’ waistline, “They still are now. Get to them, will you?”

“As the Lady Seeker commands,” he chuckled, slipping them off first, then his smalls, seeing that she was similarly nude and drinking in the wonderful sight of her curves, her taut muscles, and the small scatters of scars across her skin that told a thousand wordless tales.

“Enough of that,” she ordered, as she settled on the ground again. “Now, where were we?”

“Wait,” he said. “Come over here.”

Raising an eyebrow, she asked, “What do you have in mind now?”

“It’s hardly fair that I should get all the pleasure first. Just get down on your hands and knees again, and move forward a little bit.”

“Where?”, she asked, crawling until her bust crossed Blackwall’s view, her navel and abdominals passing over his vision after it.

“Just a bit further,” he said.

“Here?”, Cassandra asked, going forward a couple of feet until her groin was right above his face.

“Perfect,” he said, rising up to kiss her there.

She nearly collapsed onto him, her elbows buckling but her hips staying hoisted in the air as she convulsed with the sudden pleasure, crying, “Your beard…it’s ticklish!”

Stroking it luxuriantly, he boasted, “So I’ve been told. Perhaps it adds something to the whole, ah, experience?”

Trying to stare at him through her own arms and legs, she demanded, “Oh, and _who_ precisely has been going around telling you about your ticklish beard?”

Looking at her upside-down, he said, “Shall I list them all? We might be here a while.”

“Oh, get on with it already,” she retorted, drawing her hands towards her knees as she shifted her weight to her hips, which descended towards his chin inch by inch. “I think I prefer it when you use your mouth _productively_.”

“As you comm— _mmph!_ ”, Blackwall protested as Cassandra’s folds engulfed his view, rolling down from the tip of his nose to land upon his own lips.

“That’s better,” she said imperiously, “Now I don’t have to endure your attempts at wit to get through all of t- _ah!_ ”

Her exclamation was the result of a lascivious lick along the length of her slit, then the tiniest of nips on her lip. Blackwall’s further ministrations spurred on more and more such little gasps and shrieks, Cassandra being careful not to rouse the nearby surgeon’s camp as she ground her groin against his face, at first in little jerks, then steadily.

Blackwall took to his task, envisioning a straggler in the Western Approach finding an oasis and lapping at its waters with the same eagerness, and judging the success of his efforts by the gasps and groans Cassandra was making with every stroke of his tongue. Tracing along her labia, he eventually reached their junction, seeking out her bud, combing through her trimmed hairs until the tip of his tongue made contact.

Cassandra bit down on her lip, _hard_ , bucking so forcefully that she momentarily worried if she had struck the back of his head against the floorboards. Her worries evaporated as she noticed that he hadn’t let up one bit, sucking on her clit with pauses at first, then practically welding himself to her there up till the point that, as unwilling as she was to do so, she sat back onto his chest, shaking her head, cheeks utterly flushed and sweat dripping off her brow and landing on his torso.

“Is there something wrong?”, Blackwall asked, casually wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist.

“You’re impossible,” Cassandra chided. “But there’s hardly a need to rush things so much. We have the rest of the night.”

“That’s not so much time,” he stated.

“We still have some,” she said. “Don’t stop, but…well, I’ll let you know, then you can do your worst. In the meantime, be _gentle_ , Blackwall.”

“As her ladyship w—”

Glaring, she said, “And address me like _that_ one more time, and I shall get up and leave.”

Defeated, he shrugged his shoulders best as he could with his back on the floor, nodding as she expectantly settled her seat back onto his face. Reorienting himself, Blackwall settled into a regular rhythm, feeling his tongue dance along her folds, sucking on her clit once every few laps. His hands slid up the backs of her legs, coming to settle on her taut, firm, buttocks, which he grabbed as much of as he could grasp.

Seconds dragged into minutes as time lost meaning, the only thing he could sense being her moans of ecstasy were as music to his ears, muffled as they were by her powerful thighs. Maker, if he went out like this…

His concerns of being asphyxiated by her legs were soon superseded when he heard her voice from as though a league away, Cassandra almost screaming as she enveloped his mouth with her crotch, “ _Fuck_ , Blackwall! Finish…do…lick it now! Suck on it! Now, _now!!_ ”

Wondering if that was legitimately the first time he’d ever heard her vocabulary be so filthy, he set to work, focusing his attention on the junction of her folds and the bud above it, which now was so stimulated he could nearly take its entirety between his lips, which he did, feeling her tremble and convulse above him so violently that he swore she was practically shivering in delight as she came again and again, to the point where he started genuinely worrying that she’d crush his ears against his head.

Finally, an orgasmic cry tearing through her throat, Cassandra reached apotheosis, rolling over to her side bonelessly as Blackwall gasped for air, turning his head over to look at Cassandra, observing her chest heaving with deep breaths as she wordlessly stared past the rafters into the night sky, utterly overwhelmed.

“Well,” he said, “I suppose that’s another name to add to the list.”


	3. Chapter 3

Long moments passed as Cassandra returned to the world, turning to glare at him, with a touch of bemusement nevertheless evident in her narrowed eyes. “I _knew_ I should’ve stayed on top of you a little longer.”

“Maker forbid,” Blackwall said, “I might have run out of air there and then.”

“I would not deprive the Inquisition of its finest Warden…in quite that fashion, anyway,” she said, smirking. “Come, I think you’ve been rather deprived.”

She turned around, kissing him messily on the mouth, tasting what he had some seconds ago, and laying more down his chest and his belly, right up till her lips came to the base of his penis, feeling him harden—even more so than he already was—with her own ministrations, licking his shaft until she reached the swell of his phallus, breathing wetly on him as she felt Blackwall trembling as the sensation.

“Andraste’s tits, woman,” Blackwall said, “You’re a bloody tease.”

“Boastfulness compounded with blasphemy,” Cassandra chided. “Whatever shall we do with you, Warden Blackwall?”

“Anything you wish,” he hoarsely replied. “Anything at all.”

“Lie back and endure your reproof, then,” she said, before the tip of her tongue descended upon the slit of his glans, lingering patiently as he tensed up.

Pursing her lips together, she replaced the contact of her tongue with her lips, slowly opening her mouth to accommodate the head of Blackwall’s penis in its entirety, inching down bit by bit until it was entirely engulfed in the wet heat of her mouth. A deep groan rose from his chest as he relaxed into her, his large, rough hands coming to grasp the back of her head before she took them by their wrists, staring up at him.

The wordless rejection clear, he instead twisted his hands out of Cassandra’s grip, gently guiding one of them around the base of his phallus and the other to under his ballsack, hoping to make his meaning just as clear. Nodding gently to avoid bending his penis unnaturally, she complied, wrapping one hand around him and cupping him with the other.

Blackwall felt the air leave his lungs as she began to apply just the first touch of suction, along with her hands’ ministrations, regaining his breath and regulating it in some attempt to make the moment last as long as he could humanly manage. Maker, everything in this moment felt so decadent, so wantonly lustful, but yet so _right_ all at once.

It was barely a matter of some long minutes, her tongue and hands stroking everything just so perfectly, before he realised he’d lose his self-control as Cassandra had whilst sitting on his face, the familiar feeling of tightness around his diaphragm suggesting that if he wanted to do something, he had to do it soon. His arms feeling like lead as all the blood had flown further down, Blackwall sat up and reached out for her shoulders, guiding her mouth off him with one final long, wet lick.

Catching her breath, Cassandra asked, “Is something…were you about to…?”

Nodding, Blackwall answered, “Maker, you’re even more skilled than I am. But I didn’t want to finish in…”

A smile curled in her mouth. “I’d imagine not. Don’t leave a mess in your own barn, Blackwall. Still…”

“Still?”

“I wanted to feel it…in me,” she said, completing the thought, looking deeply into his eyes.

Looking sheepishly around, he said, “I, ah, wasn’t exactly prepared for tonight.”

“I was,” she said, rifling through the pockets of the trousers she’d discarded in a hurry, withdrawing a nugskin pouch and a small vial of some oil.

From the pouch, Cassandra took out a small, flexible disc of sewn silk over a flexible wooden structure, waterproofed with some pine tar, and slathered it in the oil, sitting back down and gingerly slipping it within her with a series of slight gasps, until the pessary settled against her walls, sealing her cervix. Blackwall sat where he was, transfixed by the sight.

“So you were,” he muttered, “Prepared, that is.”

“You should’ve seen the look on Healer Adan’s face when I asked him,” she said, continuing, “And yours right now for that matter. Oh, don’t fuss, Blackwall, I didn’t mention _you_.”

“I wasn’t going to—”

“And it’s _far_ more preferable to drinking witherstalk tonic for days on end,” she added, laying on her back, keeping her legs spread. “Now, stop staring and get to work.”

“As the great Cassandra Pent—”

“ _Enough_ ,” she commanded, lifting her thighs up whilst planting her back on the ground, relaxing in anticipation of Blackwall entering her. He did moments later, eliciting her drawing her breath in sharply, then slowly exhaling as he advanced inch by inch, her walls being even warmer and more pleasurable than her mouth had been minutes ago.

At this, he thrusted forth, then withdrew a little, engaging in a steady rhythm even as he felt Cassandra’s hooked ankles pressing on the small of his back, driving him further forward again and again until, with the gentlest of bumps against the pessary indicating that he was fully hilted within her.

He opened his eyes, looking down, and the two simply held each other’s gaze, the shallow breaths caught in their mouths, as neither could find words for the moment. Finally, Cassandra nodded slowly, prompting Blackwall to draw backwards almost unto his head, then drive himself forward with an almighty thrust, a scream rising deep from within her until she realised just how loud she’d been, covering her mouth mortified.

Blackwall was convinced he was smirking because her embarrassment turned to judgement within seconds as she stared at him. Relaxing his countenance, he thrust forward again, this time a little more gently, Cassandra’s moans being quieter but no less appreciative as he thrust her length again and again, alternating them with shorter strokes.

Vaguely looking through the windows in the loft and the moon hanging over Skyhold, he idly wondered how much time had passed since Cassandra had come to the barn, eyes red with emotion and breast stirring with yearning. He decided that it didn’t matter, the important thing being that they were here together now, and what seemed like forever.

He must’ve been lost in thought as he swore Cassandra was saying something or the other, getting slightly more agitated each time, until her heels drove him right into her, her thighs tightened around his waist, and he felt himself flipped onto his back. Dazed and rather astonished that he hadn’t broken anything as he drank in the sight of Cassandra’s naked body sitting upon him, he eventually looked up at her and asked his query.

All he could manage was, “Why did you…?”

“My legs were getting tired,” she said, “and you seemed to be doing all the hard work.”

She planted her palms on his shoulders, rolling her hips back and forth, feeling his entire length within her as she did so. He felt the breath being dragged out of him, with any less self-restraint probably meaning he’d roar in ecstasy as loudly as Cassandra had shrieked not long ago, if not even louder. Maker, he was legitimately worried that everybody in the gatehouse knew exactly what was happening in here.

Her hips rose and slid down, slowly at first, then regularly and forcefully, her eyes shut as she rode him with those powerful thighs of hers, a silent exultation to the Maker on her lips as she guided herself around him to hit every pleasurable spot. Feeling him twitch and thrust his own hips upwards in the air more and more, she opened her eyes to look down at him, his face flush and streaked with sweat even in the cool night air.

“Are you…?”, she asked.

He furiously nodded, managing to say, “Any…moment…now…”

She leant forward, breathlessly whispering in his ear.

“ _Let go, Blackwall. I want it. I want it now._ ”

She felt him tense up for just a moment before he came, furiously thrusting even from where he was lying on the floor, and a warm wetness erupting from him within her. Knowing that time was scarce, she rocked back and forth even harder than before, aiming to come from the sensations in her, and finding the perfect spot within herself, clenched around Blackwall, diving forward to lock lips with him as she rode out her own orgasm.

One, then another, washed through her as she broke away only to kiss him with every few motions, until, spent at last, she collapsed onto him, still feeling him buried within herself, turning her hips slightly to let him slip out.

“Maker, woman, you’re impossible,” Blackwall blearily said as his senses finally returned.

“Shush,” Cassandra chided, “No more words. I just…I just want to feel you here. Tomorrow the business of the Inquisition takes precedence, but here, now…”

“I understand,” he said as his large, rough, hands stroked her cheek and guided her chin, tilting her head up so he could kiss her gently on the lips. “We should probably find a sheet or get the covers from downstairs though unless you want to catch a chill.”

“Later,” she said, burrowing her nose below his ear, “When we get some sleep. Let’s just…stay here for a few minutes more.”

Chuckling as he gazed at the stars, he rhetorically asked with no little mirth, “You really _are_ impossible, you know that?”

* * *

Leliana turned away from the narrow window of the rookery, noting that the shadows cast by the firelight in the barn had stopped moving at last. It did not take a bard to guess what had been happening in there ever seen she had sighted Cassandra walking down the steps, past the gatehouse and stopping before she reached the stables.

She looked over Charter’s report on the activities of Warden Blackwall in the past few years yet again, trying to make sense of it, before crumpling it up with a frustrated huff. It might not be relevant in a couple of weeks’ time, at any rate, depending on what happened at Adamant, but its unresolved questions still clung to her like viscous pitch.

There would come a time where it would be paramount to inform Cassandra of her misgivings. It, still, nevertheless could wait…for the time being.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: https://athenril-of-kirkwall.tumblr.com/post/637893629868916736/


End file.
